The bar was spinning-or maybe it was just me. Either way, I was gone.

Courtney was laughing at something I barely registered, her arm draped over my shoulder to keep me steady. The music was loud, pulsing through my chest like a second heartbeat, and everything felt light. My head, my limbs, my thoughts-it was like I was floating, untethered from everything weighing me down.

And then, out of nowhere, a deep, confident voice cut through the noise.

"You look like you're having a good time."

I turned-probably too fast-nearly stumbling as my gaze landed on her.

She was a stranger, but something about her made her feel important.

She stood there, leaning against the bar like she owned the damn place. Her posture was relaxed, effortless. A leather jacket clung to her shoulders, and a silver chain glinted under the dim neon lights. She had dark, sharp eyes that looked at me like she already knew me, and her lips curled into a smirk that made my stomach flip.

Masculine, bold, dangerous.

I swallowed. "Uh-yeah, I guess."

She chuckled, low and amused, before sliding onto the stool next to me. "You don't sound too sure."

Up close, I could see the details-her jawline sharp as hell, the slight scar above her eyebrow, the way she smelled like expensive cologne and something else I couldn't place.

She held out a hand. "Gia."

I hesitated for half a second before taking it. Her grip was firm, warm. "Heavenly."

Gia's smirk deepened. "Fitting name."

I huffed out a laugh. "You don't even know me."

"Maybe not." She tilted her head, studying me. "But I can tell you're a little too pretty to be sitting here looking that miserable."

I blinked. Was I that obvious?

I took another sip of my drink, my fingers gripping the glass a little tighter. "And what makes you think I'm miserable?"

Gia shrugged. "Call it a gift."

There was something in her tone-something knowing. Like she saw right through the sloppy drunken act and straight into the mess inside me.

The thought made me shiver.

She nodded toward my empty glass. "Need another?"

I should've said no. I should've walked away.

But Gia was looking at me like I was interesting, like she wanted to know me, and I was just drunk enough to let it happen.

I pushed my glass toward her. "Sure."

And just like that, I was spiraling deeper into the night-into whatever this was.

The next drink went down smoother than the last. Or maybe I was just getting used to the burn.

Gia ordered whiskey for herself, something dark that smelled like smoke, and when she took a sip, her lips curled like she enjoyed the bite of it. I found myself watching her more than I should've.

Everything about her screamed trouble. The way she sat, legs spread like she owned her space. The way she held her glass, slow and deliberate, like she was in no rush. Her confidence wasn't forced-it was real, and it made me feel small in the best way.

"So," she said, setting her glass down with a soft clink. "Tell me about this person you're trying to forget."

I stiffened. "What?"

Gia smirked. "I saw it the second I walked in. The whole 'I'm drinking to escape someone' look."

Damn.

I exhaled, tapping my nails against my glass. "She's just... complicated."

"She?" Gia raised a brow, her smirk deepening. "Interesting."

I shrugged, feeling the heat rise to my face-not from embarrassment, but from the alcohol. "It's nothing."

Gia studied me for a second before leaning in, her voice low. "Doesn't look like nothing."

I swallowed hard.

Why did she make everything feel intense?

Before I could say anything, she reached for her drink, swirling the liquid inside before taking another sip. "Let me guess," she continued, "she's one of those people who acts like they don't want you, but then does just enough to keep you hoping they do."

My stomach twisted.

She had no idea how right she was.

"...Something like that," I admitted.

Gia clicked her tongue. "Figures."

I frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," she drawled, tilting her head, "people like that? They'll never give you what you want. But they'll take everything they can."

Her words hit a little too hard.

I stared at her, at the way she said it so easily, like she knew exactly what she was talking about.

"Sounds like you've been there," I muttered.

Gia's smirk faltered-just for a second, so quick I almost missed it. But then she was leaning back again, that cool confidence sliding back into place.

"Maybe," she said, her tone unreadable.

I wanted to ask more, but before I could, she nodded toward the dance floor. "Come on."

I blinked. "What?"

"Dance with me."

I laughed-actually laughed. "I don't dance."

Gia grinned, standing up and holding out a hand. "That's what they all say. Until they do."

I hesitated.

For some reason, my heart was pounding in a way that had nothing to do with the alcohol.

I shouldn't. I shouldn't.

But Gia's gaze was steady, waiting, daring me.

And maybe it was the liquor, or maybe it was the way I wanted to prove to myself that Billie wasn't the only person who could make my heart race.

So I grabbed her hand.

And let her pull me into the crowd.